


Destiny: Lost Lore

by RolloDex



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26645728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RolloDex/pseuds/RolloDex
Summary: A collection of fan-made "lore tabs" created for exotics that don't yet have any.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	1. Expedition-JT

**_To parts unknown._ **

_“Fireteams can be as much of a hindrance as a help. Knowing that’s the easy part. Figuring out which is which? That’s where things get complicated. Hope for the best, but plan for the worst.” —Limax-13_

Lorilynn leaned against the base of the wall, spinning a small void disc on her finger as she watched Limax recheck the straps holding his bags onto the sparrow. A chunky, sturdy affair, it reflected its rider in many ways. The Exo’s battered brown armor was resplendent in its plainness; webbing, dirt, and dull plating calling to mind a mountain, immense and unwavering. Her sleek, metallic armor, by contrast, gleamed startlingly pink in the glare of the headlights, glowing like a beacon in the half-light before dawn.

“You could easily ask for assistance, you know, plenty of Guardians would be willing to lend a hand. If we can’t render aid to our own, how can we help anyone? All Zavala said was that it was an operation that needed to be completed quickly, and as quietly as you could manage. He didn’t specify that it had to be done alone.”

Limax paused, looking at her, and though she couldn’t see it, she knew his eyebrow was raised.

“Yeah yeah,” she grumbled, as the Exo went back to work. “They could slow you down, or trip some alarm, or get in your way. Just because it could happen doesn’t mean it _will_ , though. Gotta have some faith sometimes.” Here she leaned forward with a conspiratorial gleam in her eye and a faint smirk on her face. “And someone’s got to show the new lights the ropes sometime. They’ll go off and get themselves killed otherwise.”

Chuckling, Limax straightened, and Lorilynn pushed off the wall to meet him. They grasped hands for a moment, and Limax slapped her shoulder. “I think I’ll leave that to you. You’re better at wrangling a fireteam than I am. Something about lacking the patience.”

A wide smile split her face and she laughed heartily as she returned his gesture. “They’re not so bad once you get to know them. I’m going to find you some friends, and when you get back, we’re all going to go and spend some time at the bar. It’ll be fun.”

Limax snorted as he mounted his sparrow, the engine rumbling to life. “I learned long ago not to object to these schemes of yours.”

A self-satisfied smirk overtook the Sentinel’s face before she dropped it in favor of an expression of mock-indignation as she punched his shoulder, an action that would have felled an Ogre but barely rattled her fellow titan. “Scheme? Me? I’ll have you know I leave all the scheming up to the hunters.” She shook her head as she looked skyward, her jumpship appearing over the wall. “May the Light illuminate your path, and may your fire burn ever brighter.”

She vanished in a puff of transmat smoke as the ship shot overhead, pulling a sharp turn and rocketing off back towards the Tower. Limax cranked the throttle, the sparrow shuddering as its engine roared. He wheeled about and fixed his eyes on the sun, just peeking above the horizon. A plume of dust rose behind him as he inhaled, the wind rushing past his helmet refreshing.

Sure, a fireteam could help. But alone, he could listen. Listen to the world around him. And learn.

* * *

**Some general notes about this series. I'll have a cast of three or six recurring guardians (haven't decided on the exact number yet) that make up the core fireteam(s), with appearances from friend's characters every now and again. I've decided to split the Guardian, the Young Wolf, whatever, into three people: the Titan, Lorilynn Earle, the Hunter, Sylestine "Delta" Zarha, and the Warlock, Sterling Serra, who share in the accomplishments achieved by the Guardian we play as.**


	2. Armory Forged Shell

**_For Ghosts who honor the tradition of the Black Armory._ **

_“Perhaps there is more meaning in small favors than in grand gestures.”  
—Ada-1_

Ada-1 stood before her console, one of the Black Armory’s books open before her, but she found it impossible to focus on transcribing the ancient knowledge within. Her mind was a whirl; so much had happened in a few short weeks. After the ever-scheming Spider had sent the Guardians her way, she’d barely had time to stop and consider how things were evolving at a breakneck pace.

First, Volundr, then a few short days later, Gofannon. Izanami shortly after that, and with it, Ada had believed all the forges had been found. She had then entrusted a team of guardians with the task of recovering the Vault Ebisu in the ruins of Botza District. They had destroyed the warden left by Siviks, Insurrection Prime, and the Guardian who had started it all, an infuriatingly persistent warlock by the name of Sterling Serra, had returned to her bearing something she hadn’t ever thought she’d see again: The Black Armory Papers.

Even defaced as they were, they were a stark reminder that the Guardians weren’t the savages she remembered. They had faced trials innumerable in her name, all so that the Black Armory might be restored to its former glory. Even so, the search for the missing pages was a source of continuing frustration, as Siviks had vanished once more after his Prime Servitor had been destroyed.

But then, reports of hidden messages hidden within the forges began to reach her. Messages that drew her closer to her heritage. Soon, the Guardian spearheading the efforts to reclaim the forges had informed her that they had found a hidden message that spoke of a final forge hidden within the birthplace of the Black Armory, Niobe Labs.

A fourth forge. A chill still ran down Ada’s back when she thought of how the news had shaken her. Another forge, and she wouldn’t have known it existed if not for the efforts of a multitude of Guardians—people she had hated with all her being for most of her life—working around the clock.

To solve the puzzles left behind by _her_ family. So that she might be reunited with the shattered remnants of her past, and so that the sigil of the Black Armory might burn once more, free from the taint of the Kell’s Scourge. Sterling suspected that Siviks might be hiding in this final forge, and so preparations were made to track him down once more. Weapons were forged, armor was fashioned, and search parties were organized. Once word had come that the entrance of Niobe Labs had been found—through a tunnel that bore many of the same marks made in Vault Ebisu—Sterling and his fireteam departed post-haste, the warlock promising to bring news of the fourth forge and Siviks.

That had been three days ago.

Three days for her to finally slow down and realize just how much things had changed. Time enough for her to collect her thoughts and consider her next moves, free from the interruptions of the Light-Bearers, whom she had banished from her sanctum unless they bore news of Niobe Labs.

And yet...

She found her mind constantly drawn back to the Guardians. Back to how she had misjudged them for all these long centuries, even after surreptitiously moving into their great Wall following the Red War. She found herself wondering about how many other things she might be wrong about, and as she thought, she found herself driven to create.

That in and of itself wasn’t all that surprising, it was the imperative of the Armory to craft weaponry fine enough to be considered art. But when she returned to herself after meandering amongst her musings, she looked at the schematic she had drafted and caught herself. It seemed her subconscious knew what she needed even when she wasn’t sure of it herself.

If she had lips, she would have smiled, before rising and sweeping towards the workshop.

She was working at her console once more when she sensed him enter, her racing mind calm once more. She didn’t bother turning her head until he stood behind her, his presence unmistakable.

“Did you find it?”

A simple question, belying the emotion hidden beneath it, emotion she was sure he was aware of.

“Yes.”

A simple answer, but one that carried with it a host of feelings Ada wasn’t sure she was entirely prepared for.

“And Siviks?”

“He was there, but fled once again. I don’t think he’ll go far though, whatever he’s looking for, it’s somewhere in that final forge. We’ll be seeing him again soon, I’m sure.”

Ada nodded, before turning to face him fully. “I owe you a debt of gratitude, Guardian. It seems I was truly mistaken to have judged you so quickly. I do hope to speak with you at length about the labs, but first, I wish you to have something.”

She produced the object she had spent the last few hours creating from the small supply of materials she kept in the workshop. A shell for the warlock’s ghost, a perky thing dubbed Silver. The shell was simple, phased metal engraved with the three family crests and the icon of the Armory.

“I once viewed your ghosts as the source of your evil, the absolute power corrupting absolutely. Now I see that I was mistaken, and from such power, untold marvels can also spring. The Black Armory would be a mere shadow of its former self if not for your efforts.”

She held the shell out, and the warlock took it gently, angling it to catch the light. “Welcome to the family.”


	3. Merry Maker

_“Sometimes New Lights need just as much encouragement as the citizens of the Last City. A show of kindness can make all the difference.”  
-Lorilynn_

It was the Dawning once again, and the Last City had donned its festive wear to commemorate the occasion. Lanterns hung from the ropes that crisscrossed the streets, casting a warm orange glow on glittering icicles and alabaster drifts piled against doorways. Multi-hued lights hung in strings around brightly-lit windows, while the sounds and smells of the holiday drifted through the air like the streamers fluttering in the wind.

For Naphji, however, the city’s transformation wasn’t some age-old ritual observed time and again. This was her first Dawning, and the warlock was having trouble deciding where to look first. She had the day off and intended to make full use of it. She had headed for the heart of the city, accompanied by the other two members of her fireteam, then promptly lost track of them as her attention was dragged in about thirty different directions at once.

She drifted through the streets, half looking for her comrades, but constantly distracted by the sights and smells of the holiday. The people were friendly enough, but as soon as they saw the ghost at her shoulder, their expressions became guarded. Almost fearful. No longer did they speak to her as an equal, as family. Now she was a deity to be appeased.

Her gusto surrounding the outing gradually faded, and she soon found her shoulders slumping and her gaze drawn to her shuffling feet. The decorations, though their colors didn’t change, lost their color, and she turned back towards where she might transmat back to her ship. Styrofoam tried his best to console her, but she ignored him.

Such was her gloom, she didn’t notice the man in her path until she collided with his back, and he grunted and stumbled forward as she fell back into a snowbank, cold flakes sneaking past her collar and down her back. She spluttered an apology, looking up at the person she had collided with.

He gave her a once-over, amusement dancing in his storm-grey eyes. He glanced at Styrofoam, but rather than shrink from her, a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and he offered her his hand. “Hey there kiddo. Out to see the sights?” She accepted his hand, still somewhat flustered, as another human appeared behind him, her arms laden with all manner of packages and parcels.

She raised her eyebrow at the man as she saw Naphji standing before him. “Come now Sterling, you’re not harassing a new Guardian, now are you? That’s hardly in the spirit of the season, now is it?”

He adopted a hurt expression. “She ran into me! Hardly my fault she wasn’t watching where she was going!”

“I’m sorry,” Naphji interjected, “He’s right, I wasn’t paying attention.” She wasn’t exactly sure what to make of the situation. The two of them bickered like an old married couple, but they weren’t intimidated by her, and somehow seemed to know that she was a new light.

The ghosts that appeared at their shoulders explained that, however.

Their attention shifted back to her as she spoke, and the woman studied her face, her expression softening. “Hey now, why the long face? This is hardly the season for melancholy. What troubles you?”

Naphji wavered for a moment, then cracked. The woman exuded a friendly, comforting energy that helped put the Awoken warlock at ease. She told her about how the citizens treated her differently whenever they saw her ghost, how it just made her feel like she didn’t belong, how she didn’t feel welcome in the very city she protected.

The woman smiled, a knowing, conspiratorial look. “You’re not the first to feel that way, don’t worry. Lots of Guardians forget what they fight for sometimes, just as the people forget that their defenders are people too.” She shifted her armload of boxes and clapped Naphji on the shoulder, the force behind it immediately marking her as a Titan. “Sometimes all they need is a reminder. Lucky for you, there’s no better time than the Dawning.”

She dumped the boxes into her fellow guardian’s arms and he grunted, staggering backward under their apparent weight. “Take these to the tower, I’m going to show our new friend here around. Delta, help him out.”

Another guardian materialized next to the trio, her periwinkle skin marking her as another Awoken. She smirked at him as he struggled, which drew an irritated glare. She laughed and relented, taking half, and together, they traipsed towards a nearby square.

That left Naphji alone with the titan, who slung a strong arm around the younger Guardian’s shoulders and steered her in the opposite direction. In the distance, a large, open-air pavilion rose, music drifting out towards them. “I’m Lorilynn, what’s your name?”

“Naphji.”

“Beautiful name. How long ago since you woke? Have you found a fireteam yet?” These and many more questions flowed out of the elder Guardian, and Naphji did her best to keep up. Many people called out to Lorilynn as they walked; playing children, shopkeeps, and mothers from their windows. Lorilynn responded to all by name, introducing Naphji as they went. Now, rather than fear, the warlock saw adoration, and she found her spirits lifting as they went.

In a lull between hails, Lorilynn turned to her and smiled again. “See? You just have to talk to them as people, and they’ll respond in kind. Saint taught me that.” They reached the pavilion, and within, a large open area provided space for dancers to whirl around one another in a riot of movement and color as a band played merry music in one corner.

Without warning, Lorilynn shoved her into the fray, laughing as she followed her. The titan fell into the dancer’s rhythm without missing a beat. At first, Naphji felt self-conscious, resisting any temptation to join in the merrymaking, but soon, after some cajoling from Lorilynn, she found herself loosening up, beginning to sway with the other dancers.

They stayed there for a long time, sometimes dancing, sometimes just sitting and talking, laughing with the other people, sometimes playing with the children in the streets. At some point, Sterling and Delta reappeared, joining in on the fun. There, she learned that Sterling was a terrible dancer—not that he let it bother him—and that Delta could throw snowballs with startling accuracy.

The sky gradually darkened, but the glow of the lanterns beat back the shadows, casting pools of light beneath which congregations of people gathered. Food and drink were plentiful, and gifts were exchanged seemingly at random. Here, Lorilynn reappeared, carrying something in a long, flat box, and she presented it to Naphji with a flourish. She tried to protest, but the titan wasn’t having any of it, insisting that she open it, and after an interjection from Sterling (“Don’t bother arguing, it won’t get you anywhere, trust me.”) she accepted it.

Within the box, a rifle lay on a bed of tissue paper. It was resplendent in the pearly white, burnished gold, and bright blue of the Dawning, and underneath the barrel, a wickedly pointed blade hung, the lantern-light shining off the razor-edge.

Lorilynn smiled and clapped Naphji’s shoulder again. “Call it a hunch, but I think this’ll suit you.” She raised her arms, indicating the city around them. “Whenever you use it, just remember this moment. Remember what it is you fight for, and they’ll remember you.”

* * *

**Spur of the moment thing, had the idea, wrote it out. Is it two months past Christmas? Absolutely. Do I care? Absolutely not. Nephji is a friend's guardian, and I wanted to see more c o n t e n t featuring her, so I made it myself.**


End file.
